


It's Anger, Just Anger

by TowerOfGents (orphan_account)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TowerOfGents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anger never really leaves, and Simmons knows that now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Anger, Just Anger

**Author's Note:**

> As in the tags, this fic has suicidal thoughts and self harm. Please do not read if this affects you.

Anger never really subsides. It’s there, weather it be swimming in your stomach or tearing apart your brain when someone just says that one _thing_ , that one _stupid thing_ that sends you flying, sends you tumbling in to a screaming frenzy and blaming everyone who’d ever cared about you.

Simmons’ anger had never escaped him. Ever since draft, he’s had a perpetual hatred, for this stupid army, for this stupid squad, for the heat burning canyons that trapped him. He never had a good home life, never had good friends, and now he has an even worse life, having to risk his stupid existence to fight against some stupid Blues and never having a winner in a stupid never ending war.

It was always him and Sarge, for the longest time. No recruits, no drops, nothing. Then Grif, oh _Grif_ , just strolled into the picture like nothing was wrong. His slob tendencies, his slide remarks, his loud laugh, his snoring. Anger built. Anger added concrete to a structure of conflict ready to explode.

And then robots, an idiot named Doughnut, a car that looked like a puma but was called a Warthog, and confessions of love, love that he never felt until that one night, where Grif spoke to the ceiling and Simmons kept his nose in a book, listening to the soft conversation Grif didn’t know he was paying attention to. Simmons always remembers the, “I’m an idiot,” and he agreed, Grif was an idiot, but what followed was even worse, “I’m sorry, Simmons, but I think I like you, like, like like you,” and at that, Simmons wanted to scream, to throw his book on the wall and have the anger getting ready to be uncorked flow, but instead, he mumbled, “Yeah, me too. I like like you too,” which was a stupid answer, because until then, he absolutely hated Grif.

Now everyone laughed at the pillow talk they were claimed to speak, laughed at the way Grif, short, heavy set Grif, looked next to tall, well toned Simmons, laughed at the way Doughnut flaunted over the relationship claiming that they were, “perfect for each other!”

Now and then, Simmons didn’t think so. Simmons thought why he was here, why he was proclaiming love in an endless war. He thought what it was like to get married, how he would never be able to feel that feeling of happiness when someone he loved came walking down the isle. He thought about pizza shops, parks to go walking in, movies he could be watching instead of listening to a war report, while he held hands with the person he loved and laughed and felt happy again.

He thought what it would be like to suffocate, what it would like to jump off one of the cliffs of the canyon, what it would be like taking his rifle and sending a round into his gut.

Anger never really leaves, and Simmons knows that now. If it isn’t taken out, it’s bottled up, then taken out on oneself.

And whenever he had spirals, he begged and begged that no one would ever walk in that unlocked door. But every now and then, he leaves it cracked, hoping someone would just walk in, see blood running his wrist, and then he would have someone to yell at, someone to get rid of the anger.

But right now, all he can hear is snoring from his petty boyfriend, and the mucus clouding his ears as he bit his lip through the pain.

Simmons isn’t depressed, he’s angry, he’d like to tell you that.

 

 


End file.
